


Up a Tree Without a Paddle

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belle and Gold sitting in a tree, F/M, Probably not what you're thinking when you read the blurb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 01:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: During breeding season, the female American Alligator builds a nest of vegetation, sticks, leaves, and mud in a sheltered spot in or near the water. You don't want to get caught near one.





	Up a Tree Without a Paddle

Gold didn’t know what possessed him to follow the trail into the scrubby bit of woods that morning, but it was early yet and the day was still cool which he wanted to take advantage of before the air turned into a giant humidifier that sucked the life out of anyone over the age of ten. He’d been to the beach the day before and it was nice enough, but the soft sand was difficult enough to navigate with his bad ankle and cane and he absolutely didn’t want a repeat of the previous day’s floundering fiasco where he’d gotten stuck on a sandbar and had to call his son to rescue him.

It was humiliating enough to have to be rescued from high tide, but that Neal brought his girlfriend to help crushed a bit of his soul. No, he’d take a walk in the woods, enjoy what he could of the morning before heading back to the hotel and his son and his son’s girlfriend and hope to make a better impression.

It was a miracle he’d been asked to meet her, this girlfriend, this Emma Swan, and he took it to mean that Neal had begun to forgive him for being a second rate bastard during his youth.

It must be serious, Neal and Emma, or else why ask him to fly all the way down to Florida from Maine? It certainly wasn’t for the weather, he thought as he took off his wide-brimmed hat and waved it in front of his face. Even that slight bit of air felt like the back hose out of a dryer and he slapped the hat back on his head, wishing Neal had picked someplace a bit milder to settle down in. Like Sitka.

Neal was still wary enough that he agreed to meet him in a neutral place, not at his home in Tallahassee where he… did stuff with... things. Neal wasn’t very forthcoming with the details of his life, but Gold was certain that he was successful. He had been a bright and determined boy growing up, and there was no doubt that those traits continued as an adult. At least Gold hoped so.

Having learned his lesson the day before, he’d kitted himself out in more appropriate attire than a suit. He’d put on a pair of khaki shorts and Neal had given him a lurid green Hawaiian style shirt printed with tiny Loch Ness monsters all over it — where Neal had found it, Gold had no idea, but he wore it because it was funny and because his son gave it to him. He bought a white hat in the hotel gift shop and a tube of zinc oxide which he liberally spread on his nose which was already fried from the beach excursion and subsequent sandbar stranding. A pair of black socks and blue crocs completed the outfit and he felt absolutely ridiculous. Everything had that brand new crisp look about it and he thought he might have accidentally left the tag on his shirt because something was irritating the back of his neck, but it was better than sweating through three layers of silk and wool. Or having the Gulf of Mexico soak through his imported Italian shoes.

The trail he took was a sandy path that led to a sandy forest which mostly consisted of tall, skinny trees — more trunk than branch — with tufts of scraggly pine needles up at the very top of the canopy. Here and there, as if begrudgingly given space, were large and sprawling live oaks with low hanging, curved branches draped with masses of Spanish moss. Pointy looking bushes and scraggly grass made up the floor of the forest and what wasn’t covered in sand was covered in brown pine needles. There was a greenish, swampy body of water to the left, no doubt coated in mosquito larvae and choked with tadpoles. It was the ugliest forest he’s ever been in. He didn’t even know if it qualified as a forest. It had trees, yes, and he could hear the grunting noise of some kind of large animal in the distance, but…

Gold paused mid-step as his brain clicked the pieces together. Grunting noises. Large creature. Distance. The heck?

His eyes slid towards the murky swamp. He couldn’t see anything that would make that kind of a noise, but he dimly remembered reading an article mentioning that you _wouldn’t_ see anything even though that anything could most definitely see _you_.

He’d seen alligators before. In zoos. On boring documentaries with accompanying banjo music. As boots. But he never knew just how fast the fuckers could move on land until he was running for his life before the giant luggage case could eat him. Adrenaline whammied through his system, shocking him into action and giving him a very much needed boost that propelled him forward, dropping his cane in his haste as he headed for the closest tree.

He lost one shoe on the trail and the other as he scrambled up a low-lying branch and sat there panting, wide-eyed and in shock at the rounded snout of the giant lizard below him, then he gave a small shriek as the alligator showed him exactly how high it could jump.

He scrambled up another two branches just to be on the safe side. He didn’t think alligators could climb trees, but his entire worldview had just changed within the last thirty seconds and he didn’t know anything any more other than that his name was Robert Gold and he was fucked.

He clung to the tree, spitting moss out of his mouth as he stared in dismay at the serrated back ridges of an irritated American alligator. It looked to be about six feet long, but he was pretty high up the tree. Proportions and his sanity were a little skewed so he could be off by a foot or two. His hand shook as he fished his phone out of his pocket, praying like anything that there was a signal and he had a charge and that he wouldn’t drop it and that he would get out of the damn tree before nightfall.

The alligator gave another growling sound, a deep rhythmic grunting that sent chills down Gold’s spine. It walked forward a few steps then doubled back to stand its forelegs up on the tree and snap at him.

“Shoo! Fuck off!” Gold yelled at it, a bit frantic and shrill, but there was no one around to hear him.

Oh hell. There was no one around. He was well and truly stuck.

He snapped a picture of it and sent it to his son with the sole caption: _Help!_

His son’s answer came less than a minute later.

_Holy shit dad where ru?_

_Up a tree. Send help!_

_Where RU tho???_

Gold glared at the excessive question marks, but his son did have a point he realized as he looked around. Where the hell was he?

_Dad????_

The phone rang just then, startling him so much that he fumbled with the phone, tossing it from hand to hand before he got it into a finger-locking grip that threatened to snap his tendons.  Gold checked it automatically. It was Neal.

“Dad! Where the hell are you?”

“I don’t know. I went for a walk and the next thing I know I’m up a tree with a fucking dinosaur nipping at my heels.”

Gold thought he heard Neal snickering at him, but chose to believe it was just the reception. Static. Not his beloved son laughing at his predicament.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Neal asked.

Gold imagined it took a great deal of effort on his son’s part to speak without laughing at him.

“I’m fine, son. But I’d like to get down now.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Listen, ah, open up your map.”

Gold wrinkled his nose but did as his son asked, first squinting at his screen to pick out which one of the tiny squares was the map before pressing on it with his thumb. Below him, the alligator squatted down on its crooked legs as if settling down for the day. Great.

“You there, Dad?” Neal asked, beginning to sound frantic.

He held the phone up to his ear, then away again to glance at the app slowly opening. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here,” he shouted at the phone. “Just waiting for it to— Oh there it goes.”

“Okay it should show a little blue dot or something. See it?”

“Yeah.” It was blue amid a field of nothing. There was nothing around.

“Gotcha. Send me your location and I’ll come get you.”

Gold’s stomach jumped. There was no way in hell he’d put Neal in that kind of danger. A rescue was out of the question. “No! No, don’t come. I don’t want you anywhere near this thing. Send the police or-or a tank or something.”

“Da—”

“No!” He hung up, desperate to keep his son safe from the alligator. Then he stared in horror at what he’d done. He hung up on his son. Hung up on him just as they were repairing their tenuous relationship. Shit!

He looked down at the beast below him, furious. “You son of a bitch,” he shouted at it. “I hope you get turned into shish kabobs.”

The gator didn’t even blink.

Incensed, Gold stared at the phone then realized he could always call 911. Should have called them first before bothering Neal with it. Then, when they met for lunch, he could relay the incident as if he had a mild case of gators instead of an actual life threatening situation. It would have been a funny story told over mimosas and omelettes. Neal’s forehead would wrinkle as he listened, his disbelief written on his face until Gold produced the photographic evidence. They would have laughed. Probably.

The emergency line was distressingly nonchalant about the whole thing and told him they would sent out animal control as soon as possible. They were less than forthcoming about when soon actually was and Gold, his rear already starting to loose feeling after having sat on a branch for ten minutes, was beginning to get annoyed.

He had to wait another ten minutes before he heard the grumbling of a truck engine slowly driving up the trail, and he waved frantically from his perch when he saw its approach.

The driver slowed to a stop about twenty yards away from the alligator. Gold waited for a rifle to appear out the window or maybe an elephant gun or something that would shoot the damn beast, but they just sat in the cab taking their ever loving time.

He shifted in his seat on the branch, hoping to alleviate the way the bark was beginning to press uncomfortably into his ass. It was then that he realized he was missing his shoes. Another close look showed him one of them caught in the sharp, curved tooth of the alligator. Gold felt ready faint when he realized how close he’d been to becoming gator snacks, but he held on to the tree determined not to give the beast the satisfaction of eating him.

At last, the door of the truck creaked open —the sound of a crypt being opened after a thousand years. Gold watched with a tight knot in his belly as the tiniest person hopped down from the cab — so short that when they were standing on the ground, their head didn’t show over the top of the bottom of the window. They sauntered around the door and he saw that it wasn’t a man as he expected, but a woman. A wee, small thing wearing the requisite khaki shorts and shirt, a ball cap on her head with a mass of brown curls pulled through the back loop, a brown vest with dozens of pockets that practically dwarfed her, and sturdy boots on her feet. He was happy to see a utility belt with all kinds of interesting dangling things strapped to it, but no rifle in sight. Not even a popgun. 

Gold’s anxiety went up thirty percent. She would be no match for an alligator longer than she was tall. He would be forced to watch her gruesome death at the jaws of the ancient and stupid beast.

He paused, feeling both sick and depraved at the silver lining he was finding. But then, he reasoned, once she was eaten, the alligator would be too full to chase him. He’d be able to make his escape. Look, she even provided a truck for him to use — door open and engine running and everything. It was as if the fates had finally smiled upon him. When he made his escape, he would fund a memorial in her honor.

“Hey there,” she called out to him, stuffing her hands in her back pockets, lifting her head to peer at him from under the brim of her hat. He was amazed to find that he could discern the color of them from way up in the tree. But then, her eyes were so clearly blue that he’d have to be blind to miss it.

There was a strange quality to her voice. Just two words, but the vowels were all wrongly shaped and it took him a moment to realize that, like him, she was a transplant. From where he couldn’t tell just yet, nor was he exactly eager to learn more about her original country right at this very minute, but there was a sort of camaraderie in their shared... immigrantness. He’d send a plaque to her hometown after the alligator ate her.

He couldn’t mention any of that of course, but he could reply. “Hey.” Brilliant. Engage her with your radiant wit until the alligator… oh no, he couldn’t let it eat her. He’d have to sacrifice himself. If he was lucky, the state of Florida would notify Neal of his demise.

“You look like you’re in a bit of a tight spot.” She pulled out her radio and talked to the dispatcher for a moment before looking back at him. “Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?”

Australia maybe? Definitely part of the Commonwealth.

“I’m fine,” he said, looking past her. “I don’t mean to be rude, but are there more people coming?”

She shook her head at him. “Just me, I’m afraid. But don’t worry,” she called over her shoulder as she turned back to her truck. “I can handle it.”

“You’re Australian?” he called down, a bit stupidly. “Are you used to things like this? Crocodiles?”

She gave him an irritated look. “Yeah but crocs are bigger. These things are nothing. And say hi to Nessie for me will ya?”

He must have hit a nerve unintentionally because her accent went haywire: “Ye-ah, but crocs ah biggah.” Or she was putting him on. Maybe he should break out the Glaswegian and they could have a contest over who could drop the most Rs in a single sentence. At least he could roll his when needed.

Oh wait. No, that was — that was entirely ridiculous.

She had to climb back in all the way just to reached whatever it was she needed then she bounced back down to the ground carrying a length of rope in her hand, which she was worked into a sort of lasso. Gold had the mental image of this strange woman roping herself a gator and riding it off into the sunset. He hoped it happened sooner rather than later. His bladder was beginning to make itself known.

“You, ah, you do this often?” he asked, watching her with fascination.

“You’re the fifth one this week. Gladys here was just protecting her nest, y’see.”

He did not, in fact, see, but he nodded at her in the hopes that by agreeing with her she would work faster.

“So you don’t relocate them? Or warn people?” He thought that was a legitimate complaint.

She scratched under the brim of her hat and told him, sheepishly. “We’ve tried moving her, but she just comes back. And the trail had been marked, but it seems some locals thought it would be funny to move the sign. I’m sorry you got stuck, Mr…?”

“Gold.”

“Mr. Gold,” she repeated then pressed her lips together to keep the smile at bay.

Gold had no idea what was so funny about him. Besides the obvious.

“How did you get out here anyway,” she asked, hefting the rope in her hands, feeling the weight of it.

He blinked at her. Wasn’t it obvious? Oh, she meant in general, not the log with teeth waiting to eat him. “I… My son. Neal said it was a nice walk.”

She gave him a hearty chuckle, shaking her head. “Has your son always hated you?”

“Not always,” he mumbled.

“My name’s Belle French,” she told him, still looking up at him, a laughing smile on her face and her hands on her hips making him distinctly uncomfortable because she was just standing there, grinning at him and he was beginning to suspect that the real thing to be afraid of was the woman below, not the alligator.

“Pretty name,” he said. And it was. And she was pretty. And so was her hair. And her legs. And her —

Gold saw the alligator’s tail swish and its neck swivel. There was a blur of khaki and the next thing he knew Belle French was sitting perched on the branch above him. He was impressed with how quickly she could move.

“Fucker,” she mumbled under her breath, her voice floating down to him from her perch. A peculiarly colorful bird with equally colorful language.

He laughed because how could he not? Laugh or scream, that’s what Neal had always said, right? Now they were both treed — the damsel in distress and his brave rescuer.

“Can you radio for backup?” he asked, thinking the solution was clear. Send in for reinforcements. Like the National Guard.

“Yeah, I’ll just hop down there and retrieve my radio,” she said, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

“You dropped it?” He leaned his head against the trunk and sighed heavily. They were never going to get down. He knew it. “How could you be so careless?”

She scoffed at him. “Excuse me, Mr. Gold. You’re not one to speak considering your position.”

Definitely annoyed, but probably more at herself than him.

“It could be worse though,” she said, thoughtfully. “Yesterday some poor guy got stuck on a sandbar.”

He stiffened.

“That wasn’t a very nice gesture to make, Mr. Gold,” she chided him, softly.

“So now we’re both stuck. I have my phone, shall I call someone? Is there a direct line?” He pulled out his phone from his pocket, but just then Gladys’s tail knocked into the trunk and it slipped from his grasp and fell, hitting the scaly back of their hostage taker.

“Great.” He’d had his phone turned on silent and, before it slipped from his fingers, he saw that Neal had called seven times. He felt bad, worse than before. He was going to die in the tree and now he couldn’t even say goodbye to his son. Why couldn’t Miss French at least have been competent at her job.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gold,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “I'm so used to dealing with Gladys that I got a bit careless. Her nest is over in that clump over there.”

Her unsolicited apology soothed him somewhat. He looked up at her but all he could really see were her boots. It was nice hearing her voice though. At least he wouldn’t die alone as he’d always feared.

“I will confess your clothes distracted me a bit.”

He glanced down at his shirt, the tiny lake monsters grinning back at him. He would be the first to admit that he was dressed abominably, but surely they weren’t distracting enough to risk death?

“You should take them off,” she said, suddenly, her voice gone from contrite to teasing in a flash.

“W-what,” he sputtered in disbelief.

“Your clothes are a crime and I should write you a ticket just for that.”

Gold swore he could hear her smiling. Was she... actually flirting with him? “And now you’re the fashion police? You’re animal control, you have no authority to write that kind of a ticket.”

“Consider it a citizen’s arrest.”

“And now I’m under arrest?”

She snorted. Loudly. “I have a stun gun, you know.”

A stun gun! They were saved. “So use it on Gladys.”

“Can’t. Won’t penetrate her tough hide. Would work wonders on yours though.”

“And then I’ll fall to my death,” he pointed out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy a plaque in your honor,” was her quick retort.

He knew it! Somehow the day would end up in a plague for someone.

“Neal got me the shirt,” he said quietly. “I thought it was funny.”

The branch he was sitting on dipped and he whimpered a bit, holding onto the trunk for dear life until he realized it was Belle climbing down to sit next to him.

“It is funny. Especially funny now that I know you’re from Scotland, Mr. Gold.”

He nodded, giving her a weak smile. “Glasgow,” he said.

She was very pretty now that he could see her up close. Her eyes were much more blue and intense and her lips were the perfect shade of pink. Not that he’d ever considered what the perfect shade of pink was, but now, if someone was to ask him his opinion on the matter, he would have a definitive answer ready — Belle pink.

“Melbourne,” she said, pointing to herself.

“But you’re here now.”

“Yeah. Same as you.”

“I’m visiting,” he said, then clarified. “My son.”

Her lips widened into another smile that stunned him now that they were face to face. “You said.”

“How did you wind up here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I threw a dart.”

“What? Seriously?” People actually did that?

“I needed a bit of an escape. So I threw a dart at a map and it landed in a small tourist town no one’s really heard of.”

“Sounds like Storybrooke,” he said.

Her eyes sparkled merrily. “You live in a place called Storybrooke? That sounds like a fairy tale.”

“Far from it. It’s in Maine,” he clarified at her puzzled expression.

“Maine? That far away?” She tilted her chin up as if trying to picture it.

“We get our tourists all in one month during the fall. Everyone on the Eastern seaboard decides to go crazy and drive up and down New England to look at the trees change color. At least your tourists have a destination, ours are just… traffic.”

“Yeah, but..." she began, smiling softly at him. "Their destinations seem to wind up in this tree more often than not yeah?”

She bumped up against him with her shoulder as he stared at her in awe. She didn’t know it, but that was the first physical contact he’d received — voluntarily that is — in years. Well, Neal had given him a hug and that certainly counted, but Neal was his son and Belle was most definitely not his son. Or daughter for that matter. No relation. At all.

“Sorry,” she said, flushing. She looked away towards the distance where there was nothing to look at but for a multitude of identical trees. She cleared her throat before turning her attention back to him and asked, “So, what do you do all the way up in Maine, Mr. Gold?”

“Hmm? Oh. I’m an antiques dealer.”

“That right? What would you make of our friend down there?” she asked with a cute smirk that he kind of wanted to kiss.

“Um, well, taxidermy isn’t my specialty.” he eyed the alligator carefully. “My best estimate would be around eight hundred,” he said, sure of his guess. He looked back at Belle, catching his breath.

Her eyebrows disappeared underneath the brim of her hat. “That’s like a dollar per pound almost.” Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips.

“He’d be worth more as a set of luggage,” he said. He had to look away. He wanted to kiss her. Why? Well, the why was easy. She was beautiful, she was close, and they were near death. But, he’d been near death before and he’d never wanted to kiss anyone because of it. He had to get out of this tree before he did something truly stupid. Gladys was beginning to seem like a viable option.

She cocked her head and pursed her lips in thought. “Maybe a bit of both? Hollow him out and put wheels on his feet. You can even put hinges on its side.”

He chuckled a bit. “That’s a novelty item, but I know a buyer that would love it. A thousand, easy.”

She whistled. “A grand for an alligator pull toy? I’m in the wrong business.”

“You just have to know the right buyer,” he mumbled in distraction. Would she stop it with the lips thing? So disconcerting. Yes, Gladys’s jaws would be less cruel. He wished he was at home. That Neal had offered to visit him in Maine instead of agreeing to meet in this alligator infested town. Why did Belle have to happen to him now? It seemed so unfair.

“So, this son…”

“He’s got a girlfriend,” he said automatically, bristling at the mere idea of Neal and Belle. Belle and Neal. No, thank you.

She gaped at him, then laughed uncomfortably. “I, uh, wasn’t asking about that.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You visit him often?”

“No. This is the first time. We aren’t… I’m not the easiest person to love,” he explained. “He’s happier when I’m states away.”

“That’s… That’s sad,” she said.

“It is. Yeah.” He looked down at his hands, unwilling to see the pity in her eyes.

She waited for a moment, but Gold wasn’t up for giving the gruesome details of how he’d failed as a father and a husband. He’d failed at walking for fuck’s sake. He kept silent and, at last, she sighed heavily.

“Well, Mr. Gold I think we’ve been sitting here long enough. We should get down,” she said in such a decisive manner that he was ready to jump right then and there.

“I agree. How do you propose we do it.”

Another one of those mysterious smirks while her eyes glittered at him before she answered. “I’m gonna jump to that tree then make a break for the truck.”

She pointed to the nearest tree  — one of those tall, nearly limbless pines that littered the woods. Gladys was facing the other way, but Gold had seen for himself just how fast she could be when she was properly motivated.

He swallowed, heart thumping at the thought of her putting herself in that much danger. Strange. Only half an hour ago he was hoping she would do just this thing. “Won’t Gladys go after you?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. She’s just protecting her nest see? If she really wanted to eat us she would have.”

At his blank expression she continued, “They can climb you know.”

He did not know that and cursed under his breath.

“My thoughts, too. So, ah, just sit there and I’ll back up the truck then you can hop down.”

He thought of his cane lying on the trail and of his shoes, one of which was currently a chew toy. He’d hate himself in the morning for it, but when didn’t he hate himself? This would just add physical pain to the mental.

“Yeah, okay.”

She looked as if she wanted to say more, but she gave her head a tiny shake and began to carefully scoot towards the end of the branch. It dipped lower the further out she got until she was close enough to the other tree to make her jump.

She leapt like a flying squirrel, her arms held out in front of her and her legs stretched out behind her. Gold wondered, as he clung to the now wildly shaking branch, how many times she’d had to do just this exact thing before he watched — heart in his throat  — as she caught the scraggly tree trunk. Very talented, Belle French, she could have a career with the Cirque Du Soliel if she wanted.

She wrapped her arms and legs around it then looked over with a smile, giving him a thumbs up. He gave one back and then, to give her a bit of time and to be able to say that he didn’t just sit there like a lump on a log, he began to break off small sticks to throw at Gladys, hoping to keep her attention on him rather than the tiny woman shimmying down the pine tree behind them. 

Gladys didn’t even blink at the assault, but Belle was quick and had already scrambled into the truck, slamming the door shut behind her. And she’d even taken the time to grab his cane. He could kiss her for that.

The alligator did move, dragging her heavy body back to her nest without a sound when Belle slowly pulled around and Gold slowly dropped down into the back, then crawled through the open back window into the passenger seat.

It seemed all so anticlimactic now that it was over. He was expecting bullets of teeth or — He looked down at Belle, who was staring up at him, eyes wide and sparkling. Fireworks.

In a flash, she leaned over to press her lips against his in a kiss that left him breathless. It wasn’t anything much as far as kisses went, just a quick peck really and the brim of her hat bonked him on the forehead, but it made his blood boil and heart thud in his chest in a way he hadn’t felt for years. She pulled back, blushing and with a self-satisfied grin on her lips. He sat there, stunned at what had just happened, and a bit surprised to see a bit of zinc smeared on her cheek and wondered where it had come from when he remembered he’d slathered it on his nose before his walk. No wonder she’d been laughing at him all day.

She smiled at him, a bit wistfully, then put the truck in gear. “I’ll get you to your son,” she told him and Gold said a silent goodbye to Gladys and the forest, too astonished at the lingering feeling of her lips on his to speak.

* * *

Storybrooke was a lot more tame than a forest filled with alligators, and the only thing to be truly frightened of was dying of boredom. It had been a perfect place for him BB — Before Belle, but now that he was back home tending his shop, the quiet town felt too small and confining for him.

He tried for weeks to get her out of his head. Despite the fact that he’d sent a sizable check in Belle’s name to the conservation of the American alligator. And despite the thank you bouquet he’d sent her office. She seemed the flower type, but he thought something more was in order. She had saved his life after all. He’d gone through his stock twice, hoping to find something there that would make her happy. There didn’t seem to be anything she would like and he’d completely failed to find anything about her during their time in the tree. He wanted to know more about her. Why had she been so desperate to leave her home that literally anywhere else was better? And why had she kissed him? Why didn't he kiss her back?

He’d been thinking of her so often that when she suddenly walked into his showroom one August afternoon he thought he was hallucinating. He blinked at her, gawping like a fish, but she was real. She was wearing a sweet blue dress and her hair was let down so the curls framed her face, bringing out the lovely blue of her eyes that he’d missed so much.

He’d missed her! That was what was wrong with him. Missed a person he’d only known for maybe an hour at most. How absurd.

His heart soared and began beating heavily in his throat at the sight of her. “Hey! Ah, what—?”

“Thought I’d see all the pretty leaves change color,” she said, her head tilted to the side. Very innocent-like.

“That’s not ‘til about October though,” he said, stepping out around the counter walking towards her as if she was a deer that might flit off if he made a sudden move.

“That so?” she said with a kissable smirk playing on her lips.

He nodded. “It’s August,” he pointed out.

“Mmm.”

Her smirk widened to an infectious smile and he found himself grinning back at her. He probably looked completely stupid, but he found that he didn’t care one bit. Not when they were standing toe to toe and he found, to his amazement that she was the perfect height, even in the ridiculous heels she was wearing. Had she dressed up just for him? How adorable.

She reached out and tugged at the knot in his tie, pulling him down. “Thought I’d pay Storybrooke a visit,” she said. “Maybe get into a bit of trouble. Have a bit of an adventure.”

“Might need someone to do a bit of rescuing,” he said, touching her arm. It was soft and a bit tanned and felt so, _so_ right. He marveled at her.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a partner in crime,” she said, her laughing eyes shining up at him.

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Belle, before we do anything… adventurous, I have to confess something.

She looked at him curiously and a bit worried.

He nuzzled her ear with his nose, whispering. “I was the poor guy stuck on the sandbar,” he said, pulling back to gauge her reaction.

She bit back a smile as she stood up on her tiptoes to whisper back, “I know.”

Good. The worst of it was over. He closed the distance between them and captured her lips with his. This was… this was exactly where he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Somehow, this woman had found him (up a tree) and worked her way into his heart and then followed him all the way up to Maine. He never believed in destiny before, but now he was a full convert. It was destiny that they would meet. It was destiny that led her to him twice. It was destiny that she fit perfectly into his arms and that her soft lips parted in just the right way and the soft sigh she made sent electric darts right through his body.  She was perfect and he never wanted to let her go.

He’d even move to that swamp she lived in if she asked.

* * *

“Oh! Gladys had her babies. Twenty eggs hatched. Named one after you.”

Gold’s curses could be heard all the way up to Granny’s.

 

 

 


End file.
